


One Hell of a Friend

by Alice_in_Black



Series: Nora Fitzpatrick [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Disorder, Christmas, Drug Use, F/M, Ghouls, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, Romance, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Content, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-04 12:33:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5334236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alice_in_Black/pseuds/Alice_in_Black
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you miss the chance to pick the romance option.</p><p>Nora knows how she feels about Hancock, and knows that he's her lifeline out in the wastes of the Commonwealth. But when she got the chance to tell him how much more he means to her, her nerves got in the way. But it'll have to come out sometime.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The monochromatic landscape stretched in all directions, a world of brown and rot and filth. Even the sun hit her with a dull mustard hue, the light fighting through a smog of radiation and pollution. Mud, decay, dull rust as far as the eye could see; she wondered when in the Divine Comedy this had been described, because half the time she was certain that she must have died in that damned vault.

Only one sight broke the endless expanse of beige, one point of rich color in the mass grave of Earth.

That red jacket, tattered and torn, patched a dozen times and still worse for wear, could catch her eye no matter where she was in the Commonwealth. Nora could pick it out from miles away and follow it like a moth to flame every time. Of course, the man wearing it had just the same effect. He wore that coat like it was the skin he’d lost, and truly, it suited him. He was the fire that could draw her in from anywhere.

Another blister reminded her of just how far they’d come together, bloody but still not as vivid as that coat. From Goodneighbor to Covenant, Sanctuary Hills to Lexington, and a hundred wrecked buildings in between, the world didn’t stand a chance as long as they always watched each other’s backs.

“You have been one hell of a friend.”

And this moment, all she could think of are the miles they walked together. The callouses earned were testament to their adventures, she thought as she glanced down at her ruined feet nervously, spots of red showing through her shoes where she knew the damage was worst. Any longer looking right at him, and the brightness would burn into her vision, so bloody boots it was.

“Uh… did I say something wrong?”

Immediately she choked on the things that she could have been saying, should have been saying! Damn it, he was just standing there like a fool while she tried not to stare holes through his face!

“N-no! I… I appreciate it, I mean -- I feel-- you’re--” Friend? Was that it? Not that that was bad! No, no, she would never refuse his friendship! But she’d always thought his cloudy black eyes said something more.

But if she was wrong, she couldn’t let him know. Nora couldn’t risk losing him over a few flutters of her heartstrings or forlorn sighs. She couldn’t lose him if he knew that she was getting maybe more invested in their relationship than he meant her to.

“You alright? Hey, hey, sit down.” He was already reaching into his pockets, pulling out anything and everything he knew could bring her down when she got overwhelmed. Usually after battle, or after she’d been forced to kill someone, but her attacks could happen just about any time. her anxiety could only get worse going from life in the suburbs to life in an apocalyptic warzone. Hancock would hold the Jet inhaler to her mouth for her and instruct her to breathe it in, or roll her sleeve for him to slide a Med-X needle into her skin. If not for him looking out for her, in the thick of a dangerous gunfight or in her darker moments of despair, she might not have survived out her this long. Sure, she could shoot well and could give the raiders a run for their money, but life here did not come easily to her when all was said and done.

“It’s not an attack,” she stammered urgently. “I’m fine, I’m just--”

“You’re all on edge, sister. We don’t have to talk about nothin’ right now. I got you. Sit down right here.” His leathery hands, etched with lines and ridges like bark on an old tree, held up an inhaler demonstratively and gave it a shake. “I got you,” he said again.

It wasn’t an attack, but she was getting herself overwhelmed and wouldn't say no to the Jet that might get her a grip again. She knelt down in front of him as instructed, hands on her shoulders to guide her to her knees, her breath heaving in short gasps as she leveled her eyes with the grand ol’ Star Spangled Banner looping his hips.

His rough fingers caught Nora’s jaw, prompting her mouth to open. He slipped the edge of the inhaler between her lips, dark eyes kept on hers. His torn face split in a small, approving smile. “That’s a good girl. I got your back anytime, don’t you worry.”

Then she breathed it in, and when the world slowed around her, and she could make some sense of her rising emotions and the many thoughts rattling in her brain, she fell back onto her ass in front of him.

“Feeling better? You’re looking red as my jacket.”

“Y-yeah…” She nodded and let her eyes fall shut. Everything went to a crawl. She could catch up to her own worries and feelings. “Just… what you said…”

“It’s nothin’. Just wanted to say thanks, that’s all.”

“I know. Thanks. I… feel the same. You’re a damn good man, Hancock.” The Jet kept her from feeling like she was helpless, powerless right now. Kept her focused and in control. When everything was so slow, it was easy to speak carefully, to keep her voice from breaking. “I’m lucky to have you at my back.”

“And God help any of ‘em who get in our way,” Hancock’s raspy voice agreed. He sank down to her level, elbows on his knees as he studied her. “Now, I know I could stand to listen to how wonderful I am for the rest of my days, but I’ll let you catch your breath. When you’re ready to hit the road, say the word.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

 

The crimson jacket was her anchor, the thing she focused on until the Jet ebbed away and time resumed at its typical pace. And when it did, he took her hand and helped her up.

She could fight to the death with super mutants, but would crumble the instant the fighting ceased. She could make heavy decisions with confidence, only to cry as soon as she was alone again and the weight found her shoulders. And Nora could laugh and joke all day with Hancock, but tonight she’d need something just to keep composed until he fell asleep.

It was alright. He’d let her wear his jacket when it got cold, and she knew which gold-embroidered pocket had the Med-X.


	2. Chapter 2

“Pass the cram.”

“You have a can right next to you.”

“It’s cold in the middle. Pass the one you’ve got.”

“Just put yours back in the fire!”

“I don’t want to wait.”

“Hey!”

“ _For the people_ , Hancock! _I_ am the people!”

Life in hell wasn’t so bad at times like this. They could have gotten to Sanctuary Hills before sundown, but her feet couldn’t take any more walking, and Hancock was jonesing for mentats badly, so they stopped short at the old Red Rocket in the late afternoon and contented themselves to a quiet evening outside the settlement. Supper was served while Hancock waited for his chems to kick in, a modest meal of preserved foods cooked right in their packaging by being shoved directly into the flames of their designated fire-barrel. An old pot and a spit to cook rusted outside, but neither wastelander wanted to drag them in from the rain.

Poor Codsworth would have a conniption to see it. His dear Miss Nora, sitting on the grease-stained garage floor eating out of a can and huddled next to a steel barrel burning trash for warmth. Her bare feet, now wrapped up in old rags for bandages, got as close to the hot metal as possible without adding burns to her long list of grievances.

She leaned into Hancock, reaching for the hot tin of cram that the ghoul pulled away, relaxed laughter ringing through the cement garage. “Oh, fine!” she relented and wedged her cram can back into the end of the big wrench at her side. Satisfied that it held the can good, she dropped the can back into the fire, careful to keep the handle of the wrench out from the barrel. “There, you win.”

“Damn right I win! Trying to take my food. Shit.” But despite his grumbling, his almost-lipless mouth pulled into a smile that showed off every one of his cigarette-stained teeth. “You’re lively tonight. It’s good to see, I was startin’ to worry.”

The last few days passed slower than a bad Jet trip between Nora’s usual levels of anxiety and her sudden new woes surrounding her dashing ghoul companion. Tonight was easier, though. Maybe it was the peacefulness of the Red Rocket that removed her temporarily from the stresses of post-nuclear life. Maybe the radiation was killing that part in her brain that fretted over everything. Maybe it was the gas mask that she found on the road that made killing people infinitely easier -- they couldn’t look her in the eye when they died anymore, and the concealment allowed her to disassociate and somewhat free herself from the otherwise crushing guilt until long after the fighting ended.

It was a step. An important step. They killed seven raiders just this morning, and Nora didn’t cry once all day. Yet.

Small steps, she reminded herself. She’d still need chems to fall asleep and keep the nightmares at bay, but it was something.

“Yeah, today’s good. Thanks.” The cram inside the barrel popped loudly; Nora wrapped the end of the wrench in a rag and pulled her food out from the fire, prodding the contents in the open can with her spoon. “That seems better. As soon as we get into Sanctuary, I’m having Codsworth make us a real meal, though. better than this.”

That smile disappeared the next instant, replaced with a blank stare that went between Nora and the can in her hands. “Better? Than cram? Come on, we’ve even got a fifth of moonshine stashed somewhere around here, this is straight-up a feast!”

“Heh, I guess so… Should you be mixing alcohol with Mentats?”

“Don’t you start worrying about me. We’re trying to keep you relaxed, remember? I think we stuck it…” He stood and meandered around the garage, opening cabinets in search of their carefully-hidden prize. “Ha! This is what I’m talkin’ about! I hope you’re ready for this, because we’re gonna be nursing the worst hangovers tomorrow!”

“Well, the Mentats--”

“If you don’t want to get fucked up, you don’t have to.”

“It’s you I’m worried about!”

“Look at me. This isn’t the worst shit I’ve put in my body, alright?” He broke into the bottle with a long gulp before sauntering back to her side and getting comfortable once again next to her. “Want some?”

Hard alcohol never was Nora’s cup of tea. She always preferred, well, cups of actual tea. But lately, the stiffer stuff suited her tastes better and better. Just another part of her undergoing change. The old her was being washed away in the acid rain, and she couldn’t decide if it bothered her or not. Maybe this new her, when all was said and done, could be happy.

Heaven knew she wasn’t happy before. She spent so many years wondering if she’d be content as a lawyer, and upon achieving that goal moped around about how underwhelming it really was. Clearly it wasn't her calling, she thought mirthlessly. For a lawyer of estate-planning, she sure as all hell hadn’t been prepared for the fate that befell her family. the will she drafted up for Nate didn’t remotely touch on anything that happened.

That reminded her, she still ought to write up a new will for herself. Just in case. It was dangerous out there in the Commonwealth, and it would probably make things easier for her friends if they knew who got which guns and trinkets.

She pushed the thoughts aside and took the bottle as Hancock offered it to her. This train of thought was a sure-fire way to get her emotions going in the wrong direction. A lightening in the mood was in order. 

“Ha- _aaaa_!” she keened. “Are you sure this is for drinking? Tastes more like you cracked open a battery!”

“More for me, then.” He pulled his pack of Mentats from his pocket and popped a couple into his mouth, washing it down with a swig of liquor. “Want some while I got ‘em out?”

“Oh, fine.”

“No pressure, I just don’t want you feeling left out. Mentats aren’t usually your ride, anyway. You don’t the need help being clever. Hold up, I know we have some Med-X left.”

Nora shook her head. Since Hancock went and sat so close to her, it was easy to scoot a bit nearer, closing the short distance between them so that she could feel the brush and warmth of his side against hers. Not that she was getting fresh! No, they were just two pals, and it was starting to get really cold! “You said it yourself, I’m feeling way better tonight. I think I’m good sober for once. Or… almost sober. Are those berry Mentats?”

“Perfect dessert to round out our feast, right?” he offered mischievously, and he gave the pack a tempting wave. “Open up and say ‘ah,’ sunshine. You want three or four?”

“One.”

“You sure?”

“One, Hancock.”

“For the people, and all.”

She opened her mouth, brow raised, small smile playing at the edges of her lips as she watched him fish the most complete tab from the box and place it on her waiting tongue.

“If you insist.” There was just a little pressure as the tablet touched her tongue, his finger moving just a bit deeper into her mouth than it needed to and pushing the pill deliberately, with the kind of care and intimacy that brought heat to her face. It wasn’t anything romantic, but something about that push against her tongue, feeling his heat between her lips, felt like a kiss. “There, should hit ya in half an hour, if you feel anything at all from just one. Say the word if you want more.”

The vacant space where his nose ought to have been, the black eyes, the warped skin, it all might have looked quite macabre once upon a time. But he was so far removed from the standards she had in the past; his morals showed through between hits of drugs and shots from his shotgun, his wit hid behind offhanded remarks, and he managed to make her heart sputter and halt despite being exactly nothing like the man she’d called her husband in her past life.

It took half an hour for the rain to clear up and her brain to begin buzzing, a sweet soft tone in the back of her head like a high-pitched chime. They were awake and alert as the birds in June, and scooted themselves and their fire barrel to the dusty pavement outside the garage to watch the stars. There would be no better venue for their Mentat-fueled discussion of the universe, after all.

Some old bits of tarp kept them off the wet ground, the burning garbage kept them warm, and Dogmeat vigilantly patrolled the lot while his companions chattered endlessly about how the rhythm of the universe, clearly, inspired musicians through the ages through the subconscious pulses of energy bouncing around the cosmos. Typical Mentat discussion, seasoned with a few conspiracy theories as the conversation prompted.

“You think someone could play the stars?” she asked, staring wide-eyed up at them. “If we could decode the waves of energy that come from them, and convert it to waves of sound, and use that to compose something, do you think that would be, like, the answer to everything?”

“...You mean, would that song be God?” Hancock asked, eyes going wide like they’d already answered the riddle.

“Holy shit. Holy shit, why aren’t we writing this down?!” But she made no move to leave, to get a pen or paper or anything. They just looked at each other, smiling wide, proud of their grand discovery of the true identity of God.

“You sure you only had one Mentat? Did you sneak some while I wasn’t lookin’?” Hancock chuckled after a beat. “You’re right up here with me, and I had half the tin.”

“Ha! No, only one! But gosh, I feel like I’m in college again. Late nights like this, spent talking… I feel like a kid.”

“So it ain’t just me? Good. It’s nice seeing you smile so much. You’re dealing with a lot and all. You deserve this.” The ghoul fished around his jacket pockets for the tin of Mentats, rattling the remaining two pills free. He held one out to Nora. “One more. Say ‘ah.’”

The tablet landed on her tongue, and as his finger pulled back, she felt the rough texture of his fingertip run down across it as well before dragging down her bottom lip. It was only a heartbeat, over as quickly as it began, but her body went electric at the sensation. It took a moment to realize her mouth was left agape, waiting, wanting more.

Their fire died. The stars could only shine so bright, music of God or whatever it was, and surely Hancock just couldn’t see well enough to avoid touching her. Plus he was drunk and high, and there were a million reasons why it had to have been a small, meaningless accident.

But the taste he left on her tongue, stale tobacco and gunpowder and some moonshine that’d spilled onto his hands, it drowned out the sickly-sweetness of the Mentat left in its wake.

“H-Hancock?”

“Yeah?”

“Are things… between us? Er, I mean, where do we stand? With each other?”

The mayor’s head tilted slightly, setting his tricorn hat slightly askew, and the scar tissue around his mouth went tight with a wry smile. “Sounds like someone’s fishin’ for compliments.”

“No, I just… I was thinking…”

“How about you tell me?” he purred, and he leaned a little bit closer. The tarp beneath them crinkled, making her aware of just how quiet the night was, how alone they were out here. “You look like you’ve got something weighin’ on ya. Well, I’m all ears.”

She swallowed thickly. “Do you think…” She spent a moment forcing herself to focus on the slight fizz of the Mentat on her tongue. The distraction didn’t help. His eyes were on her, she could feel his gaze even when she glanced away to the hellscape around them. “I… Never mind.”

That smile faltered, lips twitching downward before he caught the disappointment and corrected it back to his usual smug expression. “Whatever you say, sister. I’m not gonna push it.”

 

And he didn’t. He just sat there, right beside her, inching closer and closer through the rest of the night until, as the sun shone over the horizon, she was dozing off on his shoulder. A tired arm wrapped around her shoulder.

And he spent the morning riding out the last of his Mentat trip thinking through every detail of the night, considering every minute expression on her face and tone in her voice, dissecting and analyzing every ounce of interaction and wondering if the way she looked at him was all just in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentat high is the "everyone's a fucking philosopher" high.
> 
> Huge, huge, huge thanks to everyone who has left kudos and comments!! I love you all so, so very much~!


	3. Chapter 3

_Beep, beep, beep!_

It got louder and faster, each electric tone darkening his grimace an extra shade. If the bastard couldn’t find them before he blew, all the fucking better, but the urgent sound only got closer and closer, and damn it, the mutant didn’t have to know their exact location if he was gonna send the whole city block to hell with him.

“He’s far enough out!” he could barely hear beside him. Nora peaked out from behind their cover, mostly concealed still by the shattered cement and jagged rebar. Her sniper rifle was of better use at any angle but this, but to get properly situated meant getting right in the monster’s line of sight. “I’ll take it. Then run.”

There wasn’t enough time to lay out the whole plan in full sentences, but he caught her drift. Either she blew its arm off and they ran from the explosion, or she gave away their position, slowed it down, and they bolted in hopes that it wouldn’t leave them as nuclear shadows on the ground if it caught up.

Not a set of odds he’d usually like to bet on. But on her bullet? Well, he’d bet his life on it before and won, that was for damn sure. Didn’t have much choice this time around, but the thought was still there.

She took a breath, a shaking inward sigh. Nora’s body went still, muscles coiled tight beneath her vault suit, legs curled under her and ready to dash. Her whole body trembled so that her finger nearly missed the trigger.

The shot rang out, loud and clear and beautiful, the sound piercing through the incessant beeping noise.

And neither held still long enough to know whether it hit or not. Hancock leapt to his feet fast as the bullet left the chamber, gnarled hand grabbing for Nora and yanking her along beside him. The barrel of her gun scraped against the street, and he almost shouted to her to drop it, let it go, it was only slowing them down!

That terrible sound, that _beep, beep, beep_ ing shrieked in his ears, still screaming out its warning even as they sprinted in the opposite direction.

Then they felt it, the burst of energy behind them that propelled them forward, heat licking their heels, the crackle of radiation that could burn worse than any flame. The Pip-Boy on Nora’s arm chattered wildly as if they could somehow be unaware of the nuclear blast that went off a mere thirty yards behind them.

And it was even then still too near for comfort, Hancock realized when he cast a sidelong glance to his Vault-dweller companion to see smoke rising from the back of her blue suit.

“Shit, hold still!” The blast was done, and their attacker certainly dead. He dared to look down the road, and could at least relax at the sight of scattered fires and multiple bodies. Thank goodness it took out its friends, too. “Stop running, you’re on fire!”

She gave a scream and fussed the whole time he swatted at the cinders. Go fucking figure his first chance to finally touch her ass was so innocent in nature, and in a context neither of them could even enjoy. What a waste. 

It would be difficult to translate this memory of smacking her butt into something more fun for his private collection of impure thoughts, but he’d make due.

“Alright, alright. A bit cooked back there, but you’re not gonna burst in flames any time soon. You handled yourself well back there, sister,” he congratulated. And really, her track record only got longer each time they went out into the Commonwealth together. Between MacCready and Preston giving her shooting lessons, and Nick taking her under his wing, her survival skills jumped quickly from good to great.

They dropped together like bags of sand on the ground, tucked away and mostly hidden in a narrow alley between derelict houses. No more mutants would bother them any time soon, but no one wanted to stay out in the open for too long in the Wasteland. That was just asking for trouble.

Nora took the chance to come down from her panic. It took longer now that she refused the chems, and her calm never lasted. Instead she fumbled with her crumpled pack of cigarettes, accidentally smacking it into the front of her gas mask. He pretended not to notice as she abashedly pulled the mask off and set it between her lips.

It wouldn't be enough. Those never were for her. Her hands were shaking so bad she couldn’t get the light.

“Preston ain’t here to judge. You do you, sunshine, and if you need the chems--” And yet, there he was, leaning over to put his own lighter to the end of the cigarette. It was torn, bits of stale tobacco falling out here and there as if the scene was determined to get sadder with every detail.

“N-no… It’s alright,” she wheezed through a cloud of smoke. “I’m alright.”

He imagined forcing her, just shoving the Jet inhaler in her mouth past the cigarette and making sure she got the fix she needed before that poor heart of hers exploded, but the thought was gone in an instant with a shudder and wince. There were a dozen different ways he liked to imagine his hands on her, but harming her in any capacity was not one of them. Making her do anything she didn’t want to, not letting her live her life by the rules she set? Not his style, as much as it ached to watch her struggle.

And he’d be glancing over his shoulder at her every few seconds, always worried for the moment when she buckled under the pressure. He could go on for hours about the fortitude of her moral code, the sureness of her belief in people, her dedication to doing what was right, her willingness to put her life on the line for what was right. Never did Hancock question the content of her character, or that she made him proud with every choice she steadfastly made.

This wasn’t about her character, though. This was about how her heart never stopped racing, or how her mind never went quiet. And her she was, thinking that those two were related, and it was a damn shame.

Sometimes it got easier. More and more often, she smiled and laughed and could sleep without nightmares. Getting used to this new time had its challenges, naturally, but she accepted them, even knowing how easily she could buckle under the pressure. She never quit. For every time she had to duck away someplace to cry, for every attack of breathlessness and terror, she never changed her mind or went back on her decisions, or regretted what she had to do.

His warrior queen. That was the kind of leader this place needed; she wouldn’t ever be a tyrant, even if the world was handed to her on a platter. Sure, she got overwhelmed, but time and time again, she proved to be exactly what the Minutemen needed.

They’d be lost without her.

She deserved so much better than this.

“No rush. The coast is clear, we’ve got time to spare,” he said, low voice a throaty growl.

She nodded and turned her sparkling hazel eyes on him, a sliver of a smile gracing her round features.

He liked to think it wasn’t just the chance for rest and quiet that made her look so relieved, but having him with her. Maybe that was why, no matter how skilled or reliable any of her other companions were, she almost always chose him. Maybe it was their friendship that made her laugh so much more these days, that made giving up the chems almost bearable for her.

Maybe it worked better than the chems. Or, he thought, watching her shaking hand bring the cigarette back to her lips, like, eighty percent as good. She sure looked like she could use some Jet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another huge thanks for everyone who has so kindly given kudos and comments! Romance ain't really my forte (despite many attempts) so hopefully this is working out alright~


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas in Diamond City.

“Merry Christmas!” She’d been hollering it constantly since a week ago, but today it was actually true.

Any excuse for levity came welcome in the Commonwealth. The strings of lights strung up around the town, the aluminum “trees” with their lead paint flaking off more and more each passing year, and the sudden raise in prices from all the local vendors for what was, any other time of year, regarded as worthless junk; yes, it sure was Christmas.

He knew the season started when he woke up to a pounding headache and MacCready having a shouting match with a trader over the price of a hat. Somehow, even after he told the trader to fuck off, MacCready had it in his hands now as he dug through some scavenged crap for papers to wrap it in.

Hancock wasn’t a fan of the sleight-of-hand approach himself, but he’d let the kid get away with it this time. ‘Tis the season, blah-blah-blah. At least his heart was in the mostly-right place, even if his moral compass sometimes went off a click or two.

Shit, not giving him an earful for it could be Hancock’s Christmas present. There, MacCready done. Check one more off the list.

...That was a lie. He commissioned Kleo a month ago for a fancy new scope for the little asshole, and it now waited for him under the scrap tree set in the corner of Home Base’s living room.

Getting close with this new found-family sure made this stupid holiday a hell of a lot more expensive. Gone were the days of just tossing chems like candy off the Ol’ State House balcony for the neighborhood and calling it good.

His pitted hand felt out the shape of the box in his pocket for the hundredth time. It’s original label peeled off, new lettering scrawled onto the rough cardboard in Hancock’s clearly-inebriated penmanship, he chewed the inside of his cheeks just imagining what she’d say when she saw it. This was the most involved of his presents, the one in the works the longest. The one he needed to give her as much as she needed to get it.

Well, at least he hoped she liked it. Suddenly it was feeling heavier, even a bit presumptuous, maybe unwelcome.

Nora spent the last two days grinning non-stop. Her little “family” was getting along so well, and the holiday was proving to be just what she needed for a little bit of peace.

Mostly because no one wanted to be the asshole that made Nora cry on Christmas. Everyone came and went as needed, choosing to wander Diamond City rather than come to fisticuffs at Nora’s dinner table. At least one good thing about choosing Home Base as the seat of festivities meant that it was easy to sneak to the nearby bar, or even Nicky’s place if the close quarters and conflicting personalities got too grating on the nerves.

Diamond City wasn’t high on Hancock’s list of cities to visit, but as long as he reminded himself this was only a temporary arrangement, he could swallow his distaste for Nora. Besides, Nick’s office was fun to poke around in.

Currently, Cait was somewhere blowing off steam after an exchange of words with Preston, and Nick ducked away with some excuse about work at the agency. Piper had a newspaper to print, Deacon was who-the-fuck-knows, and Curie hustled around the tiny kitchen with the Vaultie herself, helping prepare breakfast. Everyone could hear exactly where Danse was, making a racket outside that split Hancock’s already-aching head. The sound only stopped when the Paladin was called in for breakfast, dumb chiseled face smeared with black oil, hands washed before sitting at the table as Nora chided him to do in her Mother Voice.

“We’ll wait to open presents until everyone gets here. I told everyone to get here by noon, though. Of course, I don’t know how anyone can sleep in on Christmas. I always wake up at dawn, I’m just so excited!” Nora chattered cheerfully, sitting down at the head of the cracked wooden table. She was still smiling. Little lines started to crease the corners of her eyes, and the wrinkle between her brows for once went smooth. Maybe she wouldn’t even need his gift, and honestly, Hancock would be just as happy for it.

Damn, she had a good smile. Dimples, teeth just a little too big, gap between the ones in front, youthful and sweet as the mascot on an old box of sweet rolls.

He’d do just about anything to keep her like this. She was finally half as happy as she deserved to be, and this world still wasn’t good enough for her.

But that was why they all came from every corner of the Commonwealth, wasn’t it? The world wasn’t good enough, but they’d try to be. For her.

Ugh, he couldn’t wait! And this gift, it wasn’t one he wanted to hand her in front of everyone.

So when she finally stood to start clearing the table, Hancock followed suit and waved Curie down. Whoops, was Danse still working on his? Too bad, bottom of the pile of plates now, sorry fucker. He sauntered back to the cramped kitchen area with a smug smile credited half to Danse’s annoyed grumbles behind him and half to the perfect view the ass that he followed.

“Oh, so domestic,” Nora cooed when she pulled the plates from his hands and set them in the sink. “Thank you, Hancock.”

“Don’t mention it. You need water from the back?”

“No, thank you. The plumbing’s been working today. Knock on wood.”

“Cool. You think these can wait a minute?” He glanced past the plywood and scrap metal countertops to where the rest of the group was gathered. Some still sat, others were standing, and Nick now made his appearance and stood at Preston’s side. No, this wasn’t private, but at least he had her to himself if only for a moment. This would have to do. No long-winded speech this time--

His hand found the box, and there he went, long-winded speech initiated: “This ain’t gonna be like what the doctors gave you back Pre-War. But we’re thinking it might get close enough. If you don’t need ‘em, that’s good too, but if you ever do, you got ‘em.”

Hancock thrust the repurposed Mentats box into Nora’s hands, the insides rattling around inside. She was already blushing. “Hancock, is this--?”

“It’s something new. Super-low dosage, one should just take the edge off, two can bring you down from an attack. So you can take ‘em whenever you need without getting high as a kite. Unless you want to, because I’ve got the shit for that, too!” he added with a wink of his clouded black eyes.

“What is it?” Nora turned toward the countertop, hiding the box from the other guests as she inspected it. Her fingertips grazed the top of the box, and for some reason, it made Hancock swallow hard to see how clean her nails were. She really went all-out for today, didn’t she? She smiled down at the shittily-scrawled label. “Sunshine?”

“New drug, had to name it. And none of Fred Allen’s ideas sounded right.” The chemist, if one wanted to give him credit with the title, really did work something great here. Extremely low dosage, carefully crafted, mostly a combination and alteration of a few Day Tripper ingredients and various Mentat recipes.

“Aw, it’s cute.”

That was it? Cute? He’d been holding on to that name, that reveal for two weeks now! It wasn’t just cute, it was the cutest fucking thing he’d ever done in his life! His hands were worrying against the seams of his coat pocket, and finally he forced them down into the pockets in fists, smiling so that his thin lips drew back and showed all his teeth. “No pressure, Sunshine, I know you’ve been tryin’a’ get away from all that. But I just wanna see you happy. You feel me?”

“Yeah,” Nora, his Sunshine said. When she looked back at him, tears just barely sparkling in her hazel eyes, Hancock caught himself swallowing again. “I feel you, Hancock. And thank you. Just knowing how much you care means a lot to me.”

“You got no idea, babe.”

He watched her slip the box into the pocket of her smudged and stained apron, and caught himself smiling a little wider at the image of a sweet little Pre-War housewife hiding drugs around a spotless house right out of an old domestic magazine. But Sunshine -- her Sunshine, not his -- was barely a drug. If any of the holier-than-thou members of their little collection had a problem with it, they could take it up with him. This wasn’t about the high, for once, it was about keeping her alive before the stress killed her.

He watched her go, eyes drifting to her ass as she walked as they always did. The nice laundered dress didn’t hug around it the way her Vault suit did, so nicely framed by the armor strapped around her thighs and the harness slung around her hips. But the shape of the dress lended itself to other images, namely how easy it would be to pull up over her waist, or how well he’d fit kneeling beneath the voluminous folds of fabric. What remained of his lips pursed between his teeth, wanting to bite but not wanting to jar himself from the turn his imagination took him.

“So?” The detective had a powerful, distinctive voice. Always in control, always a hint of mirth like he was in on some joke no one else quite got. He leaned on the counter, one side of his forehead raised to show he’d be cocking a brow if he had one.

“She took ‘em,” Hancock said. “I don’t want her to need them. But she took ‘em just in case.”

“Good. It would be nice to see her this cheerful all the time.”

“Maybe I should’ve named ‘em Christmas.”

“No, I know what you were getting at.”

“Not sure she did.”

Nick Valentine chuckled, and though he reached for a cigarette, he stopped himself short. Right, no smoking in the house. Instead his skeletal metal hand tapped out a quick pattern against his belt, and pulled back to play off the near-lapse in etiquette. “Why are you still waiting for her to make the first move? This tactic hasn’t been working, Mr. Mayor, and at some point you’re going to have to just say it.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“You’re not usually this shy around people you’re interested in. Heh, not usually any kind of shy!”

“This is a different kind of interest. Come on, Nick, you can tell the difference. You figured it all out in seconds.” A month ago, when she switched from Hancock’s side to Nick’s to go on a new mission she thought the synth more suited for, Hancock made an offhanded comment. Nick tore those few sentences they exchanged apart, and just like that, knew exactly how Hancock felt about their little Vaultie.

“I’m a detective, Hancock. It’s what I do. And I can tell you from experience, everything goes a lot smoother when everyone is just honest with each other.”

“You’d be out of a job if everyone were honest with each other.”

“You’re my friends. Believe it or not, I’d like to see you two happy.”

“Uh-huh. Thanks, Nicky. Listen, I need a fix. I’ll be on the roof, if the rest of the gang gets here before I come back down.”

Nick nodded and smacked his skin-gloved hand against Hancock’s shoulder. “Sure. Don’t go falling off, now.”

Nora’s eyes lit up to see the gift, sure, and Nick’s steadfast encouragement helped build the otherwise shaky confidence Hancock tried his best to conceal, but the fact remained that dear little Nora struck something in him that Hancock didn’t know how to deal with.

And they were best friends. He didn’t want to mess with that, didn’t want to ruin that, no matter how often he wondered how her breasts would fit in his hands or how soft she would feel if he --

Hancock slipped through the crowd, up the steps and past Nora’s narrow bed, only pausing briefly to imagine how he’d make use of the space if ever given the chance to share that bed.

Fuck, and the visions he entertained himself with were only getting more libidinous. And to be fair, lewd was normal for the man living in a drug den over a bar, ruling over Goodneighbor with pockets filled with Buffout and panties. But it was the other shit that made his heart stutter; stuff like the way she smiled at him first thing in the morning, or how it felt to watch her leave with someone else and wait for her to come back, always terrified it wouldn’t be in one piece. It was the platonic hugs that he wanted to make dirty with a well-placed hand or a rock of his hips; the hushed conversations he wanted to end with his tongue between her lips. This wasn’t like the urge to shack up with a drifter for the night.

This woman felt like a drug. Like a quiet buzz of something weak, just enough to keep him warm and cheerful, to keep his disposition hopeful and sure. Peaceful, not fucked up, just right. Not like the normal chems he enjoyed, but a low dose of something calming.

Yeah, she was Sunshine, alright.

Great thing about it, too, was how well it mixed with other drugs. He could spend hours thinking about her, enjoying that happy buzz, adding in breaths of Jet or popping Mentats to add something new to the feeling. It made him feel more alive than just the usual drugs alone normally did.

The rooftop of Home Plate became mostly Hancock’s personal chem break spot. The patio chair set on top of the tin panels had his ass memorized in the crumbling foam cushions, and was angled just how he liked it, aimed right to face the center of the market.

The lights were great when he got really fucked up at night.

Instead, the cool winter sunlight shone in from behind him. Never cared to come back here, but for the people in the building beneath his feet, it wasn’t so bad. There were worse circumstances he could have been dragged back to this place in.

Jet worked fastest, and he had an inhaler with about half a hit left, just something to run through him and slow the world down. He felt alive, nerves awakened, everything else crawling so that a sense of control and confidence washed over him. Yeah, this was good. This was what he needed.

Inhaler emptied, he tossed it in the bucket beside his chair, the plastic bouncing against the cleaned-out boxes of Mentats and packs of cigarettes. It reminded him of the half-full pack still in his breast pocket. In no time, he had a lit one in his mouth, and when the nicotine hit the Jet, everything was sweet, complete bliss.

He heard the door open, and the cigarette almost fell right from out between his teeth.

“Hey, Hancock? Everyone is here, if you want to come down,” Nora said. “If you need a minute, that’s fine. Nick said you were taking a chem break. Don’t want to pull you away if you’re tripping too hard. How are you doing?”

“Huh? No, no, this isn’t enough for that. I’ll save getting really trashed until tonight.”

“Haha, alright.” She almost slipped back through the metal door.

“Hey. You gonna do it with me?”

She stopped short, blinking. “Hm?”

“You wanna get fucked up with me tonight? It’s been a while. Even MacCready said he’d get in on it. Might convince some of the others to let loose a little, too. You in?”

But already he saw the way her eyes went to the side, just to the left of his face, her smile turning into a straight line with dimples sucked in. “I shouldn’t.” She didn’t even need to say the words outright, her expression said it all. “I know how the others think of me. I can’t be letting them down.”

“Fuck ‘em. It’s Christmas, you can party if you want. You do you.”

“Thanks, Hancock. Maybe when they all go to bed.” Her mouth relaxed, and the smile took the right shape again. She meant it.

“Or whenever. We’ll come up here. If you care that much what they think, it can just be you and me.”

“Yeah.” Nora stepped away from the door, letting it close behind her with an echo of metal on metal. But she didn’t say anything. Just stood there, the cold December air raising the fine hairs on her arms.

He had an audience. He had to say something. Fuck. “Listen. While I’ve got you. You know, I ain’t really the ponderous type. When an instinct takes hold, I listen.”

She nodded, and above the wind he barely heard her say, “Yeah.”

“Well, my instincts are all over the goddamn place right now. And it’s fucking me up bad. I told myself I was gonna stop running. That running from you was the furthest thing from my mind. But here I am, and I still can’t tell it to you straight.”

“Is everything alright?” So like her. Ask what’s wrong, offer to help, follow through on any and all promises made. Damn, she was a saint. Just never turned off. She even crossed in front of him and knelt down so that the distant colored lights in the market below made a faint halo around her brown hair. “Hancock. What’s the matter?”

“How about you answer that?” he blurted out. “You’re always asking me if things are alright between us, where we stand, right? So, what do you say? What do you think things are?”

“Between us?” The smile was gone from her mouth, but the flush across her cheeks most definitely was not from the cold.

“Yeah.”

“B-best friends!”

“And that’s it?”

Those big eyes got wider, her chest raised a bit as she pulled in a breath and held it. “Am I that obvious?” she asked after what felt like forever. Maybe that was just the Jet, though.

“Here I was, thinking I’d been laying it on thick enough for you to tell,” Hancock said, his smirk half relief and half exasperation. “No, Nora. You weren’t obvious at all. And it’s been fucking killing me.”

“Hancock--”

“Hold up. I’ve got an instinct.”

His hands found her shoulders, but he went to her, leaning almost entirely out of the chair to put his mouth to hers. His lack of lips was compensated by extra use of tongue -- she didn’t seem to mind the sudden intensity, or that his kind of kissing missed the mark of any kind of chasteness her delicate pre-War sensibilities might not be used to. She opened her mouth for him, shoulders tense at first and heart beating so hard and fast that he could feel her pulse from every point of contact. But then he felt it, her little hand on his neck, just over the frilled collar of John Hancock’s old duds. From her kneeling position, she craned upward to meet him easier, and he made it only easier by wrapping his arms around her ribs and pulling her up to his lap.

So much for naughty kids not getting presents on Christmas. This was shaping up to be the best one yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo. Merry Christmas, or whatever holidays you may celebrate. Y'all are awesome. Thank you for all the kind words, kudos, and support!


	5. Chapter 5

She wore red across her cheeks the rest of the day, that smile he loved firmly in place. Once he worried that having so many people in her home would stress her, but Codsworth always picked up any slack and eagerly served the guests so that meek little Nora Fitzpatrick didn’t have to; instead she sat with her friends, shared stories of times long gone, and swapped tokens of her affection with her new family. Hancock wasn’t the only one to pull her away to exchange gifts with more privacy. So many people loved her, and there were more than a few presents that warranted tears and long hugs.

MacCready had her to himself almost half an hour, and when they returned to the group, both had puffy eyes and happy smiles.

She brought out the best in people. 

And when night fell, it was his turn. They were gonna get right fucking blitzed just like Hancock loved. May as well have been his Christmas present, he thought, hurrying up the steps to the site of their first tryst with an eager smirk. She followed behind, feet tap-tapping the creaking stairs carefully as not to wake those who retired early and not to garner suspicion from the ones still up and chatting below.

They had their first kiss this morning, and he’d never forget it. But they slipped back down to the party without any other exchange, so as far as Hancock was concerned, it was still on a friends-kissing-friends basis. He could live with that. As long as she knew that he’d take a bullet or ten for her any day of the week, the rest was just details and drug paraphernalia. He could live with this, whatever it was.

Alone together, back on the roof, Hancock emptied his pockets of Jet and Mentats and Med-X, Day Trippers and even some Daddy-O. He set each little treasure out on the plastic patio table one at a time, watching her face intently as each chem made a new promise of what they’d feel together tonight.

“How many can you fit in your coat? Do you always just carry this sort of stash around?!”

“It’s a holiday, had to bring enough to share with everyone. Only polite, ya know.” He winked one black eye and reached into the final inner breast pocket. “And here we are. One more.”

The syringe of Psycho hit the table, and bless her heart, Nora scoffed. “Why would you have that around for just casually getting high? That’s for when you know you’re about to fight a pack of Raiders, or--”

“It’s great in the bedroom,” Hancock explained almost-innocently before he could stop himself. Well, he already said it, and she looked adorable with her mouth agape in shock, so why not give the full explanation? “If you want to go really rough, or plan on positions that require holding up a person’s full body weight for some time, it’s perfect. Gets you more out of your mind than Buffout, also. Just half a dose, one shot of whisky, and you’re going all night--”

“Dear Lord, Jesus Christ--”

“No pressure, as always!”

She snorted a laugh. One half of Hancock’s brain registered distinct relief that she wasn’t uncomfortable; the other half rather wished she hadn’t taken it as so much of a joke. After all, _he_ was certainly down for whatever direction this night might take.

Her whole face was red, and from that point she made a show of not even looking anywhere near that syringe. Instead she daintily picked up the nearest inhaler of Jet. God damn, she always made it look so naughty, the way she opened her mouth and set it between her rounded lips, the way her cheeks hollowed when she sucked it in, and her eyes drifted closed. That was what she’d look like sucking his dick, and he knew it, and fuck if he didn’t want that worse than any hit.

He hadn’t even taken his first breath yet and he was all hot under the collar. Nora passed the inhaler and Hancock took it graciously with a murmur of thanks. One deep inhale and he’d finished it off.

“Hey, Nora.” The plume of mist that left his mouth in a rush froze in the frigid air, so that he could barely even see her through the fog even though she sat a foot away. “‘Bout this morning.”

“What? Are you going to kiss me again?” She sounded like she was smiling. The giggle ringing along her consonants wasn’t as mocking as Hancock had expected.

“I was thinkin’ about it. But, listen, I know my face ain’t easy on the eyes, and I’ve got more rotten baggage than a plane crash, so if you want to keep this casual, you know, just friends--”

The smoke hadn’t cleared yet. He didn’t want to know what she looked like right now, to see her considering it. It was a fact he could live with, for her sake, but he didn’t like it.

Nora’s hand fell on his knee. She reached through the fog, mouth meeting his without any hesitation. No fear, not at all nervous. Holy shit, it felt good to feel how unafraid she was. He always worried about her, whether it was her general anxiety or her very rational fears of the horrible world she woke up to. But she melted into him, warm and at ease as he’d ever felt her, trusting and soft-- fuck. Fuck, he loved her so fucking much.

Maybe the fog had already drifted away. Hancock didn’t realize he’d closed his eyes until many minutes of running his hands along her arms and up to caress her neck, his mouth never leaving her lips. The Jet made the moment last forever, and it still wasn’t half as long as he wished it could be.

“Hey.” Her voice was lower than usual, raspy and sultry; Hancock felt a shiver run down his spine that wasn’t from the cold. “Hancock.”

“Yeah?” _Please say something dirty. Please say something raunchy and filthy and sexy._

“Can I sit on your lap?”

_Close the-fuck-enough._ He loved when she was forward, whether it was trying to playfully steal his food or now, watching her crawl up his lap like a Pre-War pinup. The drugs stretched the seconds, but he didn’t mind. He could watch her from this angle for hours. By the time she was on his lap, Hancock was at half-mast and eager to get his hands everywhere he couldn’t reach before. She moaned something softly just before pushing her open lips back against him. Her hot breath filled him, her soft tongue drawing a needy moan from the back of his tight throat.

His rough hands grabbed and squeezed over her clothes, feeling out her silhouette from breasts to ribs to hips, around back to the ass he loved so well, and up again. Oh, fuck, the way she whimpered into him when he touched her someplace new, and her body arched and twisted like a cat getting pet just right, he was sure left no illusions to how turned on he was getting since she was right on his lap where his arousal grew only more evident each passing second.

Hancock almost pulled away to ask if he was getting too fresh, if he was crossing any lines, to know just where her lines were drawn, when she rolled her hips against his lap and the growing bulge she _had to feel_. Okay, cool, that was a good sign. A smile split his face, maybe a shade more smug and satisfied than might have passed for _romantic_. “You good, babe?”

“Yeah.”

“You tell me when we’ve gone far enough.”

“I’ll draw the line at the Psycho, but otherwise…” Her hazel eyes glittered with a mischief that pulled Hancock’s chest so tight that his heart didn’t have room to beat. “Otherwise, I think we’re on the same page.”

“Then you just tell me how you like it. Do you trust me?” he knew the answer. But he wanted to hear it. He wanted to hear her say it like she had a dozen times before, but tonight, it would mean something worlds different.

How did she do that, with her eyes, just making him melt like that? She smiled the way she did in those rare moments when she was real content, with little dimples showing in her cheeks. “You know I do, Hancock.”

And then she was kissing him again. He wasn’t sure who started undulating their hips first, but somewhere in this euphoric haze Hancock realized that he was rolling his pelvis against her, and she was grinding back with him, skirt riding up so that he could see the skin of her legs when he glanced down to watch. Just the pressure felt amazing, and knowing it was her, rubbing against him hungrily and causing the most teasing friction in his antique trousers, made it ten times better. One hand slipped under the hem of her skirt and ran along her skin to the crease of her hip.

Nora looked like an angel, with the colorful lights in the city below glowing behind her like a halo. It was even more dramatic now in the darkness. She _glowed._ There was no good reason he should be this lucky.

“What are you looking at?” she whispered at a length.

“The view from up here’s pretty good,” answered Hancock. “Want to look?”

She glanced over her shoulder, but she kept her hands against his chest, fingers clenched into his moth-eaten white shirt.

His mouth was on her neck before she could turn back, sucking just enough to tell her how badly he’d been wanting this. His near-lipless mouth worked up to her ear, worried against the lobe just to get a sigh and shiver out of her, and whispered, “Stand up, Sunshine. Let’s get you a better view.”

“Better view than that smile you’re wearing?” She obliged none the less, slipping off of him and tugging her dress modestly back to her knees.

“Yeah.” Hancock stood, already working the red frock coat off his shoulders. Only a few feet away, he led her to the dog house and draped his coat over the weather-worn shingles. “Here. Lean on over--”

“Wait, are you saying--?” She didn’t protest when he moved her, though, positioning her beside the little house and bending her over where his coat would protect her from the cold roof. Her fingers grazed reverently over the red fabric, and her eyes went soft just looking at it, as if something about the display hit her especially hard.

Hancock paused to grab a couple inhalers from the table before he moved in behind her to bend down against her and set his mouth against her ear. The view was spectacular. The lights down below turned Diamond city into the glowing, gleaming gem it always fancied itself to be. Some of the lights flickered in time with faint music they could barely hear coming from The Dugout, and the Upper Stands above twinkled gloriously. He hated this city, sure, but tonight it was putting on a show for his Sunshine, and he wanted her to see it.

Besides, it sure was a hell of a lot prettier than he was.

And he wanted tonight to be perfect for her. Beautiful, free of any fear or worries, certain of his love for her, and screaming with satisfaction by the end of it if he could help it. He wanted perfection, because she deserved a perfect world.

The ghoul reached in front of her and held one of the inhalers to her mouth. He felt her whole body shift underneath him as her lungs expanded to take in the entirety of the hit he gave her. “Take it all in,” he purred into her ear. “That’s right.” The empty inhaler was promptly tossed aside so that he could take the remaining hit for himself, and when both empty bits of red plastic were forgotten at their feet, he resumed kissing into her ear.

Before long, Nora was cooing and oohing at the lights and how good she felt, wiggling her hips against him wantingly, and Hancock felt like his heart would burst. Damn, she sounded so happy, and he couldn’t remember the last time a high ever felt so good. His ragged waistcoat and frilled shirt were nothing to the December night, but his blood was scalding in his veins, his heart hammering out a rhythm so hard that his pulse was damn near painful.

His mouth went from her ear to her jaw, then to her neck where he sucked and nibbled, leaving spots and bruises like they were as young and careless as he felt right then. And while she wriggled and mewled and gasped, Hancock went about pulling the flag from round his waist and then tearing his trousers down to his knees. Then it was her skirt going up, revealing that perfect ass -- oh, how he’d always adored her ass, and now he could finally see it in all its glory! She wasn’t wearing panties. If he could smile any bigger, he would; _she wasn’t wearing any panties_. He slipped one radiation-marred hand around to her front, sliding two fingers gently between her legs.

Wet heat met him, along with a moan to make even Hancock blush like a fool.

“Yes, Hancock! Touch me, please.”

_Holy shit._ Yes and yes, she didn’t have to ask twice. He rubbed her clit, careful to hold her up and away from the dog house to give his hand enough room to maneuver. His fingers moved faster, in quick circles against her until she was rubbing herself back and forth on him, grinding against his hand and grazing that perfect ass on his cock all at once.

Fuck, this had escalated so fast, Hancock’s head was spinning. Was this all a Jet flashback? Some twisted dream that he’d wake up from any moment? The high had everything going so slow, so sweetly slow, and more and more he was becoming convinced that it couldn’t even be real.

With her hips stuttering against his fingers, Nora let out a high-pitched whimper. She came quietly, her whole body shaking against him so differently than the times he felt her tremble with fear. It was such a sweet sound, and _he_ made her make it!

Only then did Hancock straighten up, still behind her and ready, but he wanted to take in the moment. He wanted to commit this to memory, so he could be sure that this was no hallucination. He kept his hand between her legs to line himself up just right, running the head of his cock carefully against her until he was slick and in place. “You good, baby?” he asked again.

She made a breathless little whine and nodded her head emphatically against the scarlet of his coat.

His first stroke inward took the breath out of his lungs. It wasn’t just the feel of it, the perfect way her soft, warm body took him to the hilt. The view was incredible. His red, scarred, contorted skin against the smooth softness of her ass, her hands wringing in his old coat, oh, it was an image he’d burn into his mind. If he were an artist, he’d paint this shit and hang it above his desk. Maybe it was all the Jet, or maybe she was still riding her orgasm, but her eyes were rolling back just a little bit and Hancock wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anything so pretty in his life.

Both of his hands found new homes on hers, tangling his fingers between hers. Only then did he lean back over her, his front against her back, and with his legs bent for leverage, he began to thrust back and forth into her. Each stroke was deliberate, thorough. The Jet meant that he felt like he had all the time in the world, after all, and he wouldn’t waste it.

“How does it feel, Sunshine? You like that?”

“Nnn, yeah…!”

Hancock grabbed one of her legs from the back of her knee and hoisted it up onto the roof of the dog house. After only a beat of pause, he continued harder, able to angle himself to hit deeper. “And that?”

“Oh, yes, yes!” She turned her head so that her face was now hidden in the folds of his coat. Maybe it would smell like her when they were done. “M-more!”

“Can do.” In fact, he’d love to, and he set right into a more hurried pace and more force behind each push of his hips, using his legs to drive into her and working more muscles than he had used in weeks. There was a satisfying sound of flesh slapping flesh, and soon that sound was eclipsed by a new series of whimpers and moans from Nora.

Hancock knew he was getting close, felt the pressure build and the heat burn under his skin, so he put his fingers to her clit one more time. She was on fire under his touch, squirming and begging, and it only took a couple of seconds of rubbing before she came undone once more on his cock. That was all it took, her body clenching and twitching around him, to make him spend himself with a shudder inside of her.

“Oh… Oh, fuck,” he wheezed, and all at once his weight dropped heavily against her. “Shit. My legs.”

“S-sit down then,” Nora complained, but her voice was soft and light, carefree as Hancock had ever heard it.

“Yeah, yeah… I gotta catch my breath. Shit. That was _good._ ”

Nora laughed, “Flattering yourself?” She didn’t move off of the roof of the doghouse, just laid weakly on his coat and gazed dreamily down at the town below.

Hancock reeled back from her before dropping heavily back onto the patio chair. Pulling his pants back up was an afterthought that he only acknowledged when his afterglow no longer beat out the winter chill. “A little bit. Why, you just making those sounds to be polite?”

“Nnn, no.” For a moment, Hancock wondered if she might fall asleep like that, bent over with her skirt still half-hiked to her thighs.

“You’re gonna catch a cold like that.” Hancock patted his lap. “Come ‘ere, Sunshine.”

“Yeah… Hey, Hancock?” She pushed herself up from the dog house and stumbled the first couple of steps toward him.

“Yeah, babe?”

“We’re serious, right? Like, going steady and all?” she asked, and bless her, he could hear the Jet on her voice.

“You know it, love. Now get over here before you freeze.”

They spent a while snuggled up together, wearing his coat like a blanket and taking hits of whatever chem was closest. At some point in the drug-haze, MacCready showed up with some booze. They started a less-than-safe fire in the old barbecue, traded stories, and shared shitty jokes until the sky turned light.

And for the first time in a long time, Nora forgot what it even felt like to be afraid. Maybe if she just stayed up here forever, she’d never have to know again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have forgotten what the actual layout of Home Base's roof is, and how tall the doghouse even is. Haaa.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who leaves kudos and comments! Please let me know how you liked it. I am not used to writing romance, and CERTAINLY not smut, so I sincerely hope this was passable, but I am very open to constructive criticism, notes, or any thoughts you may have!
> 
> Also, if you're not following me on Tumblr ([AliceLivesOn](http://aliceliveson.tumblr.com/)), you totally should so that you can send me prompts or requests or your headcanons or whatever.


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